Stalling the End of the World
by jellibeans1776
Summary: Dumbledore's death is more than a conspiracy. When Hermione and Draco make an unlikely team how will they stall the end of the world?
1. Chapter 1

Harry and I sat opposite one another, steaming mugs blurring the space between us.

"You can't hate him for this." My voice was brittle and I used the tea to punctuate my sentence, "Dumbledore made the choice. He locked door. He gave him the spell and the wand-"

"If he gave him all that then he gave him a choice too." Harry's blood shot eyes searched the mug for answers, "he didnt have to..." his voice caught and he sank into himself.

"There was no choice. To defy him was to die."

"I wouldnt have done it. I'd have gladly died to-"

My hands tightened around my mug, the truth was strangling me, "we're not all so brave." There was too much to explain, too many ways for him to take it, but Harry was as simple as he was brave and my slip went unnoticed.

"The service will starting soon." Mrs. Weasley's voice was calming and I was a reminded that young adulthood brought as much self discovery as childhood. Her dull, orange hair was piled atop her head, pinned to submission with a hundred hair pins.

I felt my hands flattening the folds of my wool skirt, trying to find something worth hanging on to.

"It's best to get it over with." My voice felt small as I tried to remember myself. Funerals could only last so long.

X x X*

I was wrong. Only was the wrong way to view it and I paid the price the moment I was faced with the Late Headmaster's corpse. He'd been dressed in rich violet robes, his beard tied at the tip with a matching bow.

Harry's speech had curdled my insides, making it difficult to keep my anguish to myself. Phrases like 'the father I'd never known' and 'gentle spirit' beat at my heart like hammers. Loss swirled within my chest like a typhoon until, finally, tears came. They rolled sparsely at first, dripping down my chin and decorating my palms, and then it was a torrent. Several people offered me a comforting hand, whispering nonsense about choice and a better place and I felt grief wracking through me like a natural disaster.

My time came too soon and I rushed forward a shaking, sniffling mess. "He was willing to protect us when no one else could." The eyes on me helped me glue my pieces back together. "But beyond that he was eccentric and kind. Many days after classes he would share his Sugar Quill collection, insisting that I could buy the next batch." My lips itched upwards. It was easier from there. Nonsense flowed freely from my lips until finally ...applause filled the clearing and I was free to rush back to my seat. Ron's testament was much like mine, plastic, and so i focused on the way Mrs. Weasley chose to decorate. I admired how closely muggle and wizard funerals mirrored each other.

Harry's calloused hands were warm around my own, filling me with something akin to comfort. And when the tourment finally ended I raced past the Home Going Party, past the mourners and climbed the creaking stairs of the Burrow.

I fell into my desk chair, ripping paper free of my notepad. My hand slid across the tear stained page like a hot rock on ice, reckless and desperate, and I spilled my heart within the confines of the page. Knowing that this emotional shit show would do nothing for my cause I set it a flame and wrote something more concise.

 _I cant keep quiet. Obliviate me._

 _-G2S_

My hands still shook as the owl dove into the undotted sky. This was against the rules. To send an owl in brought day light was dumb, anyone could track it, and yet I didnt regret it.


	2. Chapter 2

Malfoy Manor stretched across the English terrain, beautiful and extravagant. Making my way through the gardens and along the lit path took time. The elaborate turns were endless and despite the late hour pale flowers bloomed as readily as they would in daylight. To show up unannounced was dangerous, should the wrong Malfoy lay eyes on me I could be --could? What a naive thought. I shook my head and righted my musings. I would be captured and tortured. I would be killed. And yet, I wandered without direction. The weight of Dumbledore's demise struck harder than the threat of death.

A small pop shook me from my reverie, terrifying and forcing me to spin and find the source of the sound, "miss, Poppy has to asks you to leave. The garden is not open to visitors rights now." My breath was a ball in my chest, electric and stubborn.

"Im here to meet with Draco." I watched her fidget, torn between protocol and truth and I exploited that, "he'll be highly upset should he miss this meeting." Should it get out that I'd visited enemy headquarters I'd gladly take torture in exchange for never seeing Harry again.

"Yes, but," she faltered again, tugging gently on her ears, "master is in no state to meet anyone about anything." I cocked my eyebrow, staring down my nose at her in mock displeasure. I hated to be this way, but -short of climbing through Malfoy's window- this was the only way I'd keep my head.

She led me through the gardens and into the manor. Her ears drooped in defeat as she opened the door of the study and ushered me in.

"Master Draco," she led me around the couch, clearing the empty bottles from the seat opposite him. Pale hair stuck up in odd directions and dark circles hung under his eyes like weights, "you have a visitor." She was quick to bow away from him, but his tone gave her pause.

"Prepare the room next to mine for Ms. Granger. No one is to know she's here." his words melted together as he pulled at the frayed strings of his coherency.

"You didnt answer me." My stance was stronger than I felt. Squared shoulders and a level gaze made me look put together and yet he did not buckle under the weight of my stare.

"No time." I watched him swirl the contents of a crystal glass, but the action lacked his usual arrogant elegance. I watched him pull out a fresh glass and fill it half way with muggle moonshine and half way with something red. While I held the offering, I didnt dare put my lips to the glass.

"It doesnt smell like youve left this room in days."

He scoffed, draining the glass and pouring another, "you want me to obliviate you." His fingers raked through his hair, forcing it to stand farther on end than it had originally. His eyes were like weights, forcing the air from my lungs and making it hard to breathe. The thin band that held me together strained under the weight of my own guilt.

"It's eating me alive!" My fingers dug into the glass, searching for weakness, "I cant forget what we did! I keep seeing...keep reliving." His gaze followed me as I squirmed in my seat. "You're used to this!" He stared into his glass, swallowing something heavy.

"My mum still covers my eyes at the theatre...when the risque scenes play." His voice was small. His words melted together like chocolate that I'd held in my hand too long and silence fell. It was the softest admittance, the smallest nod to his own innocence.

"I still can't-,"

"Drink with me Hermione. We can talk in the morning."

The plea on his tongue as he gazed into my tired spirit compelled me to drag the glass to my lips. Fire slipped down my throat headless of the seared flesh it left in its wake. There was no conversation as we drank, so when he spoke my muddled mind could hardly wrap its tendrils about the tail end of his words.

"Corpses fall differently than bodies." I drank to that. Dumbledore's shaking arms had fallen first, swinging by his side and then leading him into his descent. When he'd collapsed it had been Malfoy holding me back by my arms, reminding me that I had to leave for this to have been worth it. My hair and my fingerprints couldnt be here, not so close to his final resting place. I needed to be found in bed. He'd been so cold that day that I forced an image upon him. He was a murderer, a dark wizard. He was guiltless. However, I seemed to have forgotten my own role. I was just as much a murderer. I locked the door. I told him the password and when I couldnt do it- I let him.

X*X*X


End file.
